


Negative Space

by Las



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Purgatory, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2012-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 16:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Las/pseuds/Las
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s only when Dean has his blade to another monster’s throat, asking that one question over and over, that Benny sees the untold parts of the story come to light."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Negative Space

**Author's Note:**

> All parts of this fic started as overenthusiastic rambling to people about 8x02. I'd like to thank these people for listening and enabling this fic into existence. Thank you very much also to Operafloozy for being an A+ betareader.

Dean says, “No, not with the halo or the wings,” but with suits and double-talk and they come across more like conmen than warriors of God, but that’s just their vessels because in their true form—

And then Dean goes quiet, mulling something over.

Benny says, “Well?” and Dean replies, “You know Ezekiel, in the Bible?”

“Yes, Zeke and I are old friends.”

“Really?”

"No.”

The story comes out in increments as they kill their way through purgatory. Stolen moments of rest in nooks so dark they can't see each other and the only evidence Benny has that Dean is near is the rasp of his voice, talking about the angel. They are strange tales, filtered through secrets Benny can see the shape of but doesn't care to ask about. He pieces enough of it together over time.

Indeed, it’s like in the Bible, with the burning wheels and the topaz and malachite, the animal heads, the multitudes of giant wings. Less of an angel, more of a monster, an old god no one worships anymore because anyone who worships the dark succumbs to it until there is nothing left. Dean had read the relevant chapters after he came back from hell, hoping the good book would give him some clues about the thing he met at the barn, but all it gave him was the notion that the good book got some things wrong. For one thing, the Bible makes no significant mention of angels' voices, which hurt human ears, but Dean was unbodied the first true time he met Castiel, and the harmonics thrummed through him like air after drowning, making hell itself quake and Alastair cower.

Here, Dean hesitated and asked, "Do you ever see any demons in purgatory?"

Benny replied that he had never stumbled across any, but purgatory is vast and surely home to any number of creatures he hasn't yet seen. Dean nodded, and didn't look reassured.

The rest of Dean’s stories about Castiel are hijinks and jokes, told with conspiratorial smiles. It’s all so incongruous, so full of contrasts that Benny can’t quite picture the guy, the thing, the whatever. Dean talks about this cosmic horror the way Benny used to talk about his cousin from the sticks. Every so often he can see the story wander close to something more complex, and Dean hastily shepherds it in the other direction.

“He’s got a giant stick up his ass,” Dean says, “but he’s all right.”

“You don’t even know he’s alive,” Benny says.

“I don’t have any proof that he’s dead.”

It’s that simple. Humans are stupid and Benny is glad he isn’t one anymore.

It’s only when Dean has his blade to another monster’s throat, asking that one question over and over, that Benny sees the untold parts of the story come to light. The smoke and mirrors fall away. Ah, yes. This makes more sense.

+

Nothing dies in purgatory because they are already dead.

"So they just respawn somewhere else?" Dean asks, running a rock down the side of his blade. His weapon is sharp enough and further sharpening would only damage it, but these little habits comfort the man so Benny lets it slide. "Shit, you're telling me purgatory is just live-action Call of Duty? The damage we could do with some ACR's, man."

"…Yes," Benny guesses. He hates it when Dean does this.

There is a surprising affection in Dean's laugh. "We gotta get you an Xbox when we get back topside, gramps."

Benny steers the conversation back on topic. "The monsters aren't after me. They're after you."

"Me? Why me?"

"Why you? You're human. You're the brightest thing they've seen here in who knows how long. They haven't had a prey as pure as you since they were alive."

Dean pauses his sharpening and suddenly all camaraderie disappears from his demeanor. Benny notices the subtle shift in the way he grips his weapon, the less subtle suspicion in his eyes. "They, including you?"

Benny is impressed first, amused second. He calculates the different ways he can disarm and kill Dean should he decide to attack, and at the same time he feels fond of this man and his instinct for blood. "I wouldn't eat you, Dean." Benny smiles slow. "You're my ticket out of here."

And then he bares his teeth.

+

Benny is underwhelmed.

So this is the guy. Castiel is more ascetic than angel. He looks like a vagrant Benny might've fed on back on earth, a guy no one would miss.

Well, one guy missed him.

Benny can sense the angel’s tattered grace, but it is hard to reconcile that with the man in pajamas and the dirty coat. The only thing he recognizes from the stories is the way he looks at Dean. And when the angel's betrayal is revealed, the only thing Benny recognizes in Dean's response is his refusal to let common sense win. It's a miracle subverted: a man offering salvation to an angel. It's all upside down.

"Let's go, then," Benny grunts, and starts walking. He doesn't look to see if they follow.

+

More than once, Benny comes back from sentry duty or scouting the trail ahead to Dean and Castiel's conversation trickling to a stop in his presence. They would look up at him, Castiel with a carefully blank expression and Dean like he just got caught red-handed.

It’s not that Benny is jealous, as Dean is so fond of accusing him, but he’s irritated at the angel ruining the balance of a perfectly good duo. Benny would say to Castiel, “That’s not how we do things,” and Dean would cut in with a “Lighten up,” and refuses to take their squaring off seriously at all. The technique is effective to a point - let people solve their own problems, after all - but if this continues, Benny might have to do something drastic.

"Listen, Benny knows the lay of the land, so let him do his thing, okay?" Dean says to Castiel, who says fine, then Benny says great, then Castiel says wonderful, and Dean says, "Guys."

"You're not what I expected an angel to be," Benny says when Dean is out of earshot.

Castiel looks him up and down and replies, "You're pretty much what I expected a vampire to be. The hat is a surprise, though."

Benny wonders what angel blood tastes like.

The first time Benny thinks, "Okay, so this one's useful after all," is the day there were too many nagas. You can take a couple down if you're resourceful, but if a whole pack of them sets its sight on you, you are done for. ("Like raptors!" Dean chimed in.) The pack, as it were, has set its sights on Dean.

"Didn't we already-?" Dean frowns, and Benny says, "Yes."

Castiel adds, "They say they're here for revenge."

Nothing dies in purgatory. They just get angry.

The nagas attack all at once, converging on Dean. There's a flash of light and a sound like someone tearing the universe apart. When the spots fade from Benny's vision and the ringing from his ears, Castiel is no longer behind him but beside Dean, panting with one hand on Dean's shoulder and the other outstretched and ready to smite whatever else might still be there. There is nothing there. An angel's judgment is absolute.

"Cas," Dean says, "Cas, we have to-" but Castiel doesn't seem to hear him. Dean places his hand over Castiel's, and Castiel looks at him as if through a fog, the rage on his face softening to his default bewilderment.

"We, uh," Dean says. "We should skedaddle."

They skedaddle.

+

Benny isn’t asleep. He doesn’t need to sleep here, but it does feel good to rest, so he’s sitting back against a tree with his hat pulled over his eyes when he hears the soft rustle of Castiel walking away. He knows it’s Castiel without even looking; it doesn’t sound like Dean. Benny shifts his hat and watches with one eye as the angel hesitates at the edge of their encampment like he’s waiting for some signal from the dark.

 _Yes, go, go if you want_ , is Benny’s first thought, but if it results in Dean dragging them on another merry chase through purgatory, then he may have to intervene. It’s clear from the beginning that Castiel wants no part of their escape and is only coming along because Dean held himself ransom, but Benny has been in this hell long enough and by god, he is getting out. If that means keeping this strange creature around then so be it.

Benny shifts his weight, ready to to get up and intercept further martyrdom, and then he hears, “Cas?”

Benny freezes, and Castiel turns around.

“What, are they close?” Dean is already sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Should we move?”

Castiel looks back at the darkness behind him.

"Cas?" Dean says, the syllable tight with tension.

Even under shadow, Benny recognizes that look - the tiredness that lined Dean's face when a lead on the angel went nowhere or an illusion reverted back to its monstrous reality. A few weeks ago, Benny had to hold Dean back from pursuing some Castiel-shaped thing that had reached into his mind and read his weaknesses. _It's not him, it's not him_ , Benny hissed, but Dean was bewitched and frantic, and it took all of Benny's strength to pin him down. The creature had beckoned him closer and Dean could not see what Benny saw - the claws on its hands, the sheen of scales on its neck. _Cas_ , Dean kept saying, and, _Please_ , and after the ordeal was over, this was the look on his face. This is what it means. Castiel within arm’s reach, about to fade back into nothingness.

“We’re fine,” Castiel replies, and Dean takes a shaky breath that has nothing to do with the fear of leviathans.

“C’mere,” Dean says.

One last glance over his shoulder at the dark, and then Castiel goes to him.

“C’mere,” Dean says again, softer, and Castiel squats beside him and waits as Dean rubs his face then looks at the angel with an expression Benny has never seen before. Dean reaches out and squeezes Castiel’s shoulder.

“What?” Castiel asks, and Dean’s murmured reply is too soft for Benny to hear.

Castiel covers Dean’s hand with his own and says, in his wounded tone, “Dean…”

And Dean just smiles. It’s not quite a happy smile, but it is the kind of smile without regret, though cracked at the edges.

Benny may not see the angel Dean sees, but he is beginning to see the man Dean used to be.

Dean goes back to sleep. Castiel sits next to him and keeps watch. Purgatory is silent again, or as silent as it ever gets with this many - what was that word Castiel so delicately used? - abominations roaming the land. In a few minutes, Benny will rise for his turn on watch. For now, he waits, and thinks of the ocean, how much he has missed it, even it feels like a memory of a memory now, sanded down to a simple desire to go home. They all have that in common, at least. (Dean makes a sound in his sleep, and Benny and Castiel look over at the same time.) Everyone here just wants to be where they belong. 


End file.
